


to end where we began

by nefelokokkygia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefelokokkygia/pseuds/nefelokokkygia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>little iceland has many questions, and sweden doesn't have the answers to all of them. but he'll try the best he can. written for nordipalooza 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to end where we began

**Author's Note:**

> written for nordipalooza 2012 for the prompt 'sweden + iceland - cold water [medieval or modern]'. contains child-iceland and grown-up sweden, speculation on germania's family tree, gratuitous use of icelandic and swedish, norway is a good daddy, and enough existentialism to hopelessly drown in. it's been a long time since i've written anything under nc - 17; still got it!

“Be careful around the water, _Island_.”  

The tiny Nation doesn't respond, but Sweden watches as he sits down in the frosty grass by the edge of the water, fingers flitting through the blades. The little pool glitters in the waning light, sun low above the horizon as the cold night hovers like fireflies above the earth. Fat clouds float in bursts amidst the painter's palette of reds and yellows and violets, shadowed dark against the sky. The blond kingdom can feel the chill of the evening coming on quickly, clouds full of snow that will begin falling before the hour is up, and he pulls his fur collar tighter around his neck.

For all the bite and breath of the cold, Sweden is grateful for its effect on the trees and brush. Dead limbs for firewood and clumps of dry leaves for kindling give faster for his gloved hands, easy enough that the kingdom leaves his axe wedged in a dead stump and does most of the work by hand.

“ _Svíþjóð_ ,” the silver-haired Nation calls quietly from the edge of the pool, and Sweden looks up from a particularly fickle branch to answer him.

“ _Ja, Island_? Is there something you need?”

“Is it going to snow tonight?” Iceland asks, staring up at the sunset sky. The blond kingdom takes note of the large pile of kindling and branches he's collected, and decides it's as good a time as any to stop for the day. Brushing off his hands, Sweden seats himself beside the child Nation, looking up to the clouds along with him.

“ _Ja_ , it definitely will,” he responds, taking note of the bright curves of the fluffy masses.

“How can you tell?” Iceland questions, eyes not moving from the sky.

“The clouds are very high in the sky,” Sweden begins. “Any lower and the snow in them would melt into rain before it hit the ground. And even against the sunset, the clouds are very bright white and have been all day. Were it about to rain, they would be dark. The temperature is also right for snow; look at the water.” Iceland's eyes dart to the pool before both Nations as Sweden points to the surface, glassy and hazy.

“It's beginning to freeze,” the kingdom finishes. The tiny Nation _hmm_ s in understanding, scooting closer to the edge to look at the slowly-icing water. His reflection is misty, solid yet not in the half-glass surface.

“How do you know all of that?” The silver-haired child's voice is soft but eager, and Sweden knows well how insatiable his curiosity can be.

“Through many centuries of practice, _hjärtat_ ,” the blond says with a smile, lifting the edge of his thick cloak to let Iceland clamor into his lap, holding tight to the leathers and warm cloth the Swede wears in protection from the cold. The tiny Nation is silent for many moments until he speaks softly, bundled in his own cloak and furs over the wool tunic that matches Norway's.

“ _Svíþjóð,_ _hvar er_ _Faðir_?”

Sweden closes his eyes, remembering where Norway, Denmark, and Finland have gone. Norway had lost his king to illness in the Orkney Islands of Scotland months prior, buried in foreign land until the warmth came. Now that the winter was lessening and the snows growing further apart, the Nation had taken Denmark and Finland and gone to Bergen where the ruler would now be permanently buried.

“ _Norge_ has gone to Bergen, to say goodbye to his king,” Sweden words his sentence carefully, unsure of how much Norway had actually told him of his departure, or of any times he had been away to bury a ruler. Iceland of course knew of death, but for all of his few centuries of life he was still a child in body and mind; the blond kingdom did not want to overstep a boundary that was not his line to cross. The silver-haired Nation was silent again, little hands holding tight to Sweden's clothes and furs, until he spoke once more.

“ _Svíþjóð_?”

“ _Ja, hjärtat_?”

“Why is it that our people die, and yet we do not?”

Sweden groans internally; sometimes the child is _too_ curious for his own good, wanting answers he may not understand to questions too fragile for his comprehension. _These are things_ Norge _holds the place and judgment to answer, as his_ Fader, _not myself._

“I'm not sure I'm the one who has the right to explain that to you, _Island_. Has _Norge_ not done so for you?”

“ _Faðir_ has,” the silver-haired Nation says, “and I know we do not die like humans because we are Nations. But why are we Nations, _Svíþjóð_? What does being a Nation mean?” Iceland turns his gaze upon Sweden, eyes wide with wonder.

“That is a question which I am not sure even I have the answer to,” the kingdom admits, holding the child close. “But I will do my best to try.”

“Every civilization has a culture; customs, beliefs, values, an identity that makes them unique,” Sweden begins. “Their culture is their spirit, the footprint they leave behind on the earth and on history even after they are gone. And that spirit is very powerful.” The blond looks to the clouds, fat and puffy, splashed across the sky. The sun sinks lower still, dipping beneath the horizon and the ocean beyond.

“It gives a civilization the ability to create many things in many ways,” Sweden continues, “and in turn build upon themselves as time goes on, and reinforce their own existence. In a sense, we Nations _are_ that spirit: we are the soul of our people made flesh, made physical, an embodiment of that Creation. We are just as much an imprint on the world as they themselves.”

“So long as that spirit lives on, so do we,” Iceland reasons.

“ _Ja_ ,” Sweden agrees. “Even Nations do not live forever, just as their people do not, and the memories of a civilization can be lost to newer ones who forget or do not preserve them. But every Nation lives on in the memory of the land that gave birth to their people, and in here.” The kingdom touches his fingers to Iceland's chest, above his heart.

“How is that?” the silver-haired child asks.

“Though we are not human, we share in our people's humanity because we are born of them. Without our people, we would not exist, and without us, they would have no affirmation of their spirit. We are them, they are us, and we are one, across all peoples and all Nations,” the kingdom pauses to let Iceland take in his words, “because there is one experience that we all share, regardless of identity.”

“What is that?”

“ _Liv_ , _hjärtat._ Life _._ ”

The tiny Nation is silent, fingers tightening in Sweden's leathers and furs, the ribbons of the older Nation's hat flickering against Iceland's cheek from the breeze.

“ _Faðir_ has said the same things to me,” the silver-haired child says. “Even though people fight and make war and do not understand things like we do, he says we must never hate our people or anyone's because of it. He says we are all part of a cycle, beginning and ending over and over again, forever.” Iceland turns his gaze to meet Sweden's again, curiosity ever-eager. “But why?

“All of life is a cycle, _Island_ ,” the blond kingdom explains. “The seasons of the year, the movement of the sun, the birth and death of our people. And all of life is to be enjoyed and cherished for the experiences it gives us.”

“Even the bad ones? Like death and war?”

“Even the bad ones,” Sweden reaffirms. “Only after war can we truly understand peace and how much it means to us, and only after darkness can we learn what it means to stand in the light. Even the bad is to be loved, for it teaches us the value of good.”

“Water does many good things,” and the kingdom gestures to the pool. “On the ground it nourishes the life within and around it, and nourishes us when we drink of it. In the mists of the morning it returns to the sky, where it protects us from the sun as clouds.”

“But it does bad things too, like become blizzards and rainstorms,” Iceland counters. “It makes floods that ruin towns and people drown in oceans and lakes.”

“And out of the ruins of disaster do we find the strength to help each other and build ourselves anew, and in death we see the value of life that has been lost, and learn to appreciate it while it is with us instead of only when it is too late,” Sweden continues.

“The water returns to the earth as rain and snow to nourish the ground and ourselves, and thus the cycle repeats eternally; so too does life. To be a Nation is to take part in that cycle, just as our people do, just as the earth and all its wonders do as well,” the blond kingdom finishes.

Iceland doesn't speak, head tilted to the clouds that are fat with snow and shadowed, looming over the horizon. The sun is almost set, its top half peeking out over the ocean in the distance, light glinting and shimmering and the water is like a sheet of diamond over the earth.

“Where did you learn all of that, _Svíþjóð_?” the tiny Nation inquires. “Did someone teach you like you have done to me?” The blond kingdom smiles, adjusting his glasses.

“It is something taught to all Nations when they are young, and yet it is also something we come to instinctively know as we grow older. Your _Farfar_ taught _Norge, Danmark_ , and myself when we were your age as well.” Moments pass in silence, only the sounds of the sea and the wind hanging firefly-faint in the Nations' ears.

“ _Svíþjóð_ , what was _Afi_ like?” Iceland asks quietly.

Sweden's eyes close against the setting sun, thinking of snow-covered forests and midwinter nights, the pounding of soldiers onto shore and the halls of _Valhalla_ ( _where the brave may live forever_ , never will he forget).

“ _Germanien_ was a powerful, fierce warrior, never afraid of battle or the deaths he faced because of it. He could be strict and firm as stone in one instance, child-gentle and kind the next.”

“ I do not remember much of him,” Sweden continues, traces of wheat-colored hair and the glint of sapphire eyes flashing in his memory. “When _Norge_ , _Danmark_ , and I were your age, he was already beginning to die. The _Romerska Kejsardömet_ was long dead by his hand, and _Germanien_ 's people were growing weaker and weaker. He had fathered many sons, and we would come to inherit his lands as his people changed, and became our own.”

“But _Faðir_ 's people discovered my lands,” Iceland interrupts, voice growing worried as he speaks. “The people who came to live on them then are different from his people now. Does that mean they're changing too?” The child's voice is high and frightened, and his next words rip Sweden's heart in two as if a dagger, driven lightning into his chest.

“Am I going to make _Faðir_ go away?”

The blond kingdom pulls the tiny Nation tight to his chest, whispering sweet nothings in his ear to calm him. “ _Nej, nej, Island,_ of course not, everything is alright,” and Sweden thumbs away the tears threatening to fall. The child clings to the cloth and fur around his neck, burying his face in the warmth of Sweden's body. The kingdom lets the smaller Nation do so as long as he needs, rubbing a gloved hand over his back, pressing kisses to his forehead.

“A Nation will only die if their people lose their identity, their culture, the spirit that makes them who they are, and only if no one is left to carry it on,” Sweden explains, voice gentle as Iceland quiets against him. “ _Norge_ is the most powerful he has ever been right now, and his people are strong and fierce in the face of foes and dangers.” The tiny Nation pulls away enough to meet the blond kingdom's gaze, violet eyes wide and weary.  

“So _Faðir_ isn't going to go away because of me?” The child's voice is wavering but growing steadier with every word, and Sweden hugs him tight once more.

“ _Nej, Island_ ,” the kingdom assures him. “And even if it were true, _Norge_ would walk the halls of _Valhalla_ proud and at peace, knowing the greatest thing he ever made with his life was you.”

The last sliver of sun peeks above the diamond-horizon, the sky star-drenched and dark and the piles of kindling left safe for the night as the kingdom makes his way to the cabin they are staying in. Snow falls gentle and quiet upon Norway's lands, and as Iceland sleeps silent in his arms, Sweden offers one last glance to the sun and sea and one last thought to Germania; of wheat-colored hair and sapphire eyes, snow-covered forests and midwinter nights, of the halls where the brave may live forever

_(and ever, world without end-_

When Norway, Denmark, and Finland return the next evening, Iceland runs to the Father-Nation with open arms, and while ever-willing for the child's affections, he casts a glance over Iceland's clinging form to Sweden; swathed in furs and fabric before the fire, the kingdom motions to the tiny Nation with his eyes, brow raised and a corner of his mouth upturned and Norway's eyes close in understanding. There is much to discuss, but for now the white-blond holds the child close, nose buried in his hair, caring and content.

  _amen.)_  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  _character voices_ \- whenever I write fic, I always like to find a real-life reference to the headcanon voice I have for a character speaking in their native tongue; I like sweden's deep, rough voice in the dub, but I also can imagine him having a much lighter voice, in complete contradiction to his intimidating outward appearance. and little iceland is the cutest thing, always.
> 
> sweden: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PlFr5Aaitfc  
> little iceland: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf36B-tCRTA
> 
>  
> 
> _island_ – the swedish name for 'iceland'.
> 
> _svíþjóð_ – the icelandic name for 'sweden'; transliterated as _svithod_.
> 
> _ja_ – swedish for 'yes'.
> 
> _snow clouds_ – I'm no meteorology expert, but looking at the clouds and other signs of nature for indication of future weather has been practiced since ancient times, and is still done by many amateur weather enthusiasts to this day.
> 
> _hjärtat_ – swedish for 'heart'; a term of endearment for a loved one.
> 
> _fader_ \- swedish for 'father' (archaic).
> 
> _hvar er faðir_ – icelandic for 'where is father'.
> 
> _norway's king_ – the king norway is said to be burying is king haakon iv of norway, who fell ill while spending the winter at the oakney islands of scotland. his body was buried there for the winter, and when the weather was suitable enough, his remains were exhumed and brought back to norway to be buried permanently. this would date the story to the year 1263.
> 
> _norge_ – swedish for 'norway'.
> 
> _father-son relationship_ – I love the brotherly relationships between many of the nations, but some of them I tend to see as more of a father-son dynamic, especially when a nation raises another from a very young age. norway and iceland are one of those relationships, and nations being daddies are just too adorable to resist.
> 
> _explanation of nations_ – this is me taking an entire book of neale donald walsch's _conversations with god_ trilogy and cramming the biggest points and beliefs into about five paragraphs. read the real thing for the best experience (and explanation, I can't say I'm good at condensing).
> 
> _liv_ – swedish for 'life'.
> 
> _farfar_ – swedish for 'grandfather'.
> 
> _danmark_ – the swedish name for 'denmark'.
> 
> _afi_ – icelandic for 'grandfather'.
> 
> _halls of valhalla_ – it is my personal headcanon that if norway, iceland, sweden, or denmark were to die (especially in the viking and medieval ages), they would be taken to _valhalla_ like the brave warriors of norse mythology and belief were said to have gone. it is also a personal headcanon that norway's magick is attributed to a connection with such mythology and its deities.
> 
> _germanien_ – the swedish name for 'germania'.
> 
> _romerska kejsardömet_ – the swedish name for the 'roman empire'.
> 
> _germania's family tree_ – it's headcanon time yet again; besides austria, hre, switzerland, and prussia, I like to think that germania fathered/grandfathered sweden, norway, and denmark as well, since their cultures and people share connections with and can trace back to the germanic tribes that settled scandinavia and other parts of europe. the ancient nations seemed to have a habit of propagating offspring more conventionally than relations just popping up out of nowhere (ancient greece and egypt as canonical mothers to modern greece and egypt for example, and I interpret the relationship to be literal); I invite the reader to take the same interpretation with germania and denmark, sweden, and norway as either figurative or literal (personally, I think a mama scandinavia was running around somewhere).
> 
> _nej_ – swedish for 'no'.
> 
> _norway's height of power_ – during king haakon iv's reign, medieval norway had reached the military, economic, and sociocultural peak in its existence, and sweden isn't lying when he tells iceland that norway is very powerful at the time; the country had recently brought iceland and its people under norwegian domain, and norway's people enjoyed much internal peace and prosperity for many decades. scholars to this day debate over whether this occurred because haakon iv was actually an excellent king, or whether he was simply an average ruler who happened to be on the throne during a period of greatness for the kingdom.


End file.
